Dear Logan
by aperfectpirouette
Summary: "At present moment, I am crammed in an overpriced aisle seat on an overnight transatlantic flight, penning this letter with a borrowed pen on the back of miscellaneous sheets of paper I had crammed in my purse." Rogan.


As she sat in her second waiting room of the day, she allowed her mind to focus on the black and white photograph in her hands. She's been in a weird state of denial about the immediate situation, her thoughts too confusing and stressful to think about with any seriousness. Her thoughts were a swirling vortex of conflicting thoughts and opinions and personal histories.

Christopher didn't always make her a priority in his life while she was growing up. He was a presence, but that's all. After talking with him, she didn't get the impression that he regretted his absence; he thought that Lorelai raising her solo was written in the stars and a certain unavoidable fate.

Logan and Christopher were similar. Perhaps he, like her father, wouldn't want to be a father. Maybe he'd just want to be an elusive presence in her life. Could she handle that?

On the other hand, there was Luke. Luke who was now, technically, her step-father. Luke who had been her father figure. Luke who had been there for every phase of her life. Luke with the never ending coffee, advice, and support. This man had been cheated out of being a father to his biological daughter. Could she do that to the man she's in love with?

She doesn't feel comfortable Anna Nardini-ing Logan.

xXxxXxxXx

 _Dear Logan,_

 _At present moment, I am crammed in an overpriced aisle seat on an overnight transatlantic flight, penning this letter with a borrowed pen on the back of miscellaneous sheets of paper I had crammed in my purse (I need to be better at cleaning out my bags, I know). As I sit here, overthinking life, I'm trying to imagine you reading this in your beautiful London apartment: you will look perfectly put-together, with a bemused smirk on your lips and a confused furrow in your brow, glancing between a disheveled and tear-stained me and the crumpled sheets of paper upon which a scared little girl with shaky hands scrawled the words that will potentially ruin your life._

 _(This is the image that my mind conjures up when I imagine this moment. Of course, there are two things wrong with it: 1) I'm not a little girl, I am scared – SO scared – but I'm not a little girl anymore, I need to accept that, and 2) This image assumes I was brave enough to hand-deliver the letter and stick around for you to read it. You deserve this news face-to-face, hence my last-second decision to fly to London with only the contents of my purse, but I am absolutely not brave enough to speak the words to you, and I don't think I'm brave enough to watch you read this letter. You, Logan, were always my bravery.)_

xXxxXxxXx

The plane ride was a blur. The seven-hour flight reduced to nothing in her haze of nervousness. As panicky as she is, she feels a certain comfort in knowing that she made one important decision in telling Logan.

She's certain she's never been more nervous about anything in her life – but this is something she has to do. He has to know; he can make his own decisions from there.

If she is being honest with herself and diving into her naïve daydreams, she envisions Logan breaking things off with Odette and working with Mitchum to restructure his family obligations. He would be a great father. They would be happy.

But those thoughts are dangerous. All of the possible options that follow the "What happens now?" question are dangerous.

xXxxXxxXx

 _Logan, I don't know how to tell you what I need to tell you. I had the news verified in the form of a photograph five days ago, and to tell you the truth, these five days have been a bit of a whirlwind: a confusing conversation with my dad, both of my mom's weddings, caffeine deprivation, a heart-to-heart with Luke, one-sided chats with grandpa, lots of late night tap dancing, and a confession to my mom. I haven't slept. I'm probably dehydrated. I don't think I am eating properly. God, I am already failing at this._

xXxxXxxXx

She's trying to muster up her nerve as she stands in front of his apartment door. The universe throws her a bit of luck as she has it on good authority that Odette is currently in France and won't be opening the door or complicating the situation.

She is and always has been thankful for Finn.

Logan is on the other side of the door, living his life. Fulfilling his family's dynastic plan. Continuing his life in blissful ignorance of the kumquat-sized little miracle that has the potential to ruin the careful plan laid out in front of him. She has the humorous thought that her news will be the truest test of the Life and Death Brigade's beloved motto.

Logan may be ready to jump off of structures, sink yachts, steal boats, and cliff dive, but will he be ready to be a parent? Is anyone?

Rory doesn't think she is.

xXxxXxxXx

 _Before I give you the news, I want to make three things clear. The first thing – the most important thing – is that you know that I love you. Logan, I love you. More than I have words in my head, I love you._

 _The second thing: I'm so sorry. For everything. For being scared. The Vegas agreement. Sweeping back into your life. Saying no all those lifetimes ago. I'm sorry for all of it. And today, I'm sorry for ruining your life. For being here after that picture perfect goodbye. I'm sorry._

 _The third thing: I'm not asking for anything. I don't want you to feel any obligation to me. I don't need anything. I don't want you to walk away from everything you have right now. I don't want you to call off the wedding. I don't want you to feel any pressure to change your plan._

xXxxXxxXx

Despite what she wrote in her letter, she somehow finds the strength to stay with Logan while he reads the letter. She set one rule – something leftover from another letter to an old boyfriend: Logan is not allowed to utter a word until he reads the entire handwritten document. During the agonizing silence of him reading the life-changing news, she allows herself to think back to Dean and Jess and broken wrists and the letter. She's amused for a second that she once thought that was a big deal.

Rory chances a glance at the man she's in love with, hoping to ascertain his thoughts via his facial expression. The waiting is agonizing.

She doesn't know how long she stares at the top of his head when he (finally) looks at her. Logan hasn't reached the end of the letter yet, but he breaks the rule and breaks up the silence that has settled between them.

"Rory," his voice is hoarse and sounds the perfect combination of confused and concerned for her. His use of her name strikes her as poignant – even in his surprise, when he opened the door to her, he greeted her with a smirk and a gentle "Hey, Ace."

"No, Logan. You need to finish reading the letter. I don't think my mouth can form the words I need to say. We'll talk after. I promise." She doesn't like how shaky her voice sounds or the fact that her eyes are shifting between his face and the nail polish she's chipping off her fingers.

Logan's response is a deep sigh, "Okay. But, Rory. Sit down. Please." He watches her as she settles into her favorite corner of the couch. Once she's comfortable, he takes the initiative to pull the shoes off of her feet, prop a pillow near her head, and cover he with a throw blanket. "You look exhausted, Ace," he whispers as he kisses her cheek.

Logan is an intelligent man. Rory has a hunch that, even though he hasn't finished the letter, hasn't read the two words, he knows what's going on.

xXxxXxxXx

 _I'm not here because I need anything from you. I'm not here to force you to do anything you don't want to. I don't want to take anything from you or upend your life if you're content with it. I'm here because you deserve to know. I am telling you because I couldn't possibly keep this from you. You don't deserve that. You deserve to make your own decisions and weigh out the options for yourself. You deserve to be happy. I love you, even if you don't choose me. I completely understand – I can't imagine my news would make you happy. I don't even know how I feel about it, but I don't think I'm happy. Maybe I am. I don't know._

 _Regardless of my feelings, you deserve to know. So, I'm telling you._

 _Logan, I guess that night in New Hampshire was more than our goodbye. More than a magical evening. More than the clarity I needed to get my life on-track. That weekend, you gave me confidence in your assurance that I didn't need you to save me. You gave me strength. You gave me the most fun I've had in a while. I will never be able to thank you enough for that. But, unintentionally, you also gave me something else._

 _Logan, I'm pregnant. Our baby is 10 weeks old. Healthy, despite my coffee addiction and eating habits. I found out five days ago. Don't ask me how I'm feeling about it, okay? I'm terrified. I don't know if I can do this. But I'm determined._

 _So. I guess that's it. An ultrasound photo. Countless conversations. Sleepless nights agonizing over what to do. An impulse decision to fly to London. A restless heart trying to communicate her thoughts as she flies over the ocean. Tired eyes. Shaky hands. A pep talk to knock on your door. All this for two words: I'm pregnant. What happens now?_

 _No matter what happens, or what you choose to do with this life-altering news: I love you. I am incredibly proud of you and I promise that our child will be, too. Be happy. Live a great life._

 _Yours,_

 _Rory_

xXxxXxxXx

He finishes reading the letter. They sit in awkward silence until she, in a burst of courage that she credits to his proximity, asks the question. "So, what happens now?"

The next few hours are a blur. They kiss (because that's what they do when they're sharing airspace). They argue (she isn't ready to accept that he is really ready to walk away from Odette and the dynastic plan). They cry over the ultrasound picture (it is the dose of reality that the two of them need. This kumquat is real). They brainstorm future plans for each other. They joke about names (Rory comes to the conclusion that she will be naming this baby).

They decide that they are going to do this. One step at a time. Together.

When the dust finally settles, the two are exhausted. It was a long, emotional day. She is finally dozing – a luxury that her stress and panic have taken from her. In a half-asleep haze, while he's absentmindedly stroking her between intermittent typing while he drafts the newest dynastic plan. Before she gives in to the exhaustion, she hears a whisper that fills her with hope.

"I love you too, Ace. You and this baby are my world."


End file.
